“I love you,” I breathe into the placket of his shirt. “I love you so much.” It suddenly occurs to me: it’s ironic that Angelo calls me “Magpie.” Because I’m not attracted to the shiny things, I’m attracted to the darkness. And now, I can feel his darkness radiating against mine, a gentle hum under the surface of his tanned skin. A few moments pass, and then his hand finds the back of my skull, winding itself into my hair and tilting my face to him. “I love you too, baby.”
